Uncertain Breeze
by OpalWings
Summary: Bulma reflects on the eve of the Cell game - on the events of the past several years, and her relationship with Vegeta - set to the backdrop of a late Spring storm. Due to popular request, it has been continued.
1. Uncertain Breeze

**Title:** **Uncertain Breeze**  
  
**Author:** Jessica (StarSapphireZ)  
  
**Rating:** PG13, for mild language, discussion of sex.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Does anyone really think a humble fanfic writer like myself owns DBZ? No. Has one ever been sued for writing a fanfic? Not that I know of... But I'll say it anyway... I don't own DBZ, so don't sue me! The only thing I can really give is my siblings, and wouldn't it be a pity if I lost them! O=) This story IS my hard work though, so please don't take it for any use without my permission. Also, I've seen most of Dragonball Z, but not all, so please forgive any inconsistancy.   
  
**Archive?:** Maybe. _Please contact me and ask first!_ I'm generally a nice person...  
  
**Summary:** Bulma reflects on the eve of the Cell game - on the events of the past several years, and her relationship with Vegeta - set to the backdrop of a late spring storm. (Yeah, I know my last story involved the Cell Game and reflection as well. There is something about the upheaval of this time period which makes it a good time to go inside the minds and emotions of the characters.) Rather short.   
  
**Note:** I would like to give a big "THANK YOU!" to everyone who read and reviewed my first story, "Rising from the Ashes." Your kind words made my day and encouraged me to write more fics. This one is just something that came to me at 2:30 AM the other day, and turned out half-decent. It's one of two I'm putting up tonight. In the works are a Buu era Gohan and Videl romance fic, and a multi-chapter alternate universe/new character type story, I should have them up sometime in the near future.   
  
**Site Plug:** Electronic Wings Remix (The Spirit of DBZ; with a funky dance beat!) -- http://spirit__vs__spirit.tripod.com   
I welcome fanfic submissions (and fanart too!)   
  


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Baby Trunks slept soundly in his crib, giving Bulma a few moments of private thought. Her cornflower blue eyes were plagued with worry. It was late afternoon on the eve of the Cell Game; the day before the fate of the world and the universe was to be decided upon yet again in a fury of fists and explosions. An unsettling cold breeze blew through the open window, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. She rose from the chair in which she had been seated to close it. The grounds of the Capsule Corporation were bathed in soft tranquil yellow sunlight characteristic of springtime, but the wind blew through the leaves of the trees making the light dance across the earth in violent patterns. A few thickly whipped clouds laid ominously against the shinning blue horizon. 

Those fighting against the maniacal green android would be some of Bulma's oldest and closest friends. She had known many of them since her wild teenage dragonball-collecting adventures. She silently recalled them, smiling a slight, sadness-tinged smile. She had been vibrant and lively, with a lust for adventure and a talent for getting her way; manipulating the world with her sexual appeal. She had settled down a lot since then, she mused, especially now that she was filling the role of a mother. Her mind briefly paged through all the other things which had changed over the years, and all the things that hadn't. Krillin had settled down as well. The monk's fixation had changed from trying to look up girls' skirts to trying to find a bride. Son Goku, on the other hand, hadn't changed. He had married, had a son, grown immensely in strength and saved the world a few more times, but he was still as innocent as he had been that first time they met; when he had tried to kill the car she was driving. 

Unfortunately, her ex-lover Yamcha hadn't changed either. He maintained the same lack-of-control when it came to his handling of the frequent attention he received from other women. He had really suffered, watching everyone train for the arrival of the androids, knowing that he had fallen far behind the likes of his once-equal comrades every respect. And he made a few bad decisions; decisions which Bulma felt he was too old to make, and had made too many times. So she ended what she had once thought would last forever. 

A low rumble sounded in the distance; thunder, pressing hard against the sky like the impending summer, pressing against the cooler air of springtime. The ominous clouds had drifted closer, becoming more ominous; deeper, darker. Shaped like ashy rolling hills, turned upside-down in the sky. More wind blew into the room, tossing the gauzy white curtains around her, enveloping her silent form in them. Bulma had not closed the window. She was lost in thought and the world outside her. 

Also on the front lines that day, would be her son from the future. That shy, powerful lavender-haired boy she had barely gotten a chance to know. The few times she had tried to engage him in conversation he would blush furiously and trip over his words. It made her smile, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that he hadn't turned out cold and arrogant like his father. 

His father, who would also be fighting. The strange man - or rather, Saiyajin - who's arms she found herself in shortly after her break-up with Yamcha. He had chosen to ask her to fix yet another robot he'd destroyed in his training at the wrong time, and she flung herself at him, her fists beating furiously against his chest. He just stood, watching her. When she finally ceased her aggressions he asked her if she was finished with a look vaguely resemblant of sympathy in his eyes and she had collapsed limply against him, breathing in his scent. She didn't really know why, but then she lowered her lips to his shoulder, softly kissing the skin revealed by the tank top he'd worn to train, and then one thing lead to another. 

Maybe it was just one of those crazy things which people did in the wake of the destruction of a long-term relationship. And as for why Vegeta welcomed her advances, he was after-all a man. Even warriors had their weaknesses. Regardless of reasons, they continued this dance, one night after another until Vegeta left to train in space. Bulma had been very angry, even more so when he had missed the birth of the child their passion had conceived. (Instead, Yamcha had been by her side, remaining a faithful friend beyond the call of duty.) 

After he returned she purposely avoided being alone with him, striving to regard him with the same cold indifference in which he regarded her and their son. But it had been her fault as well; from the beginning it was plainly obvious that Vegeta had no interest in her as a person. And she wouldn't trade Trunks for the world. 

The rain began, starting adruptly in a forceful waterfall torrent as the thunder rolled louder. Bulma finally closed the window, grateful that the sound had not awakened her infant son. Saiyanjins seemed to be able to sleep through anything. Lightning danced in the distance as she slumped back in her chair, sighing softly. The worry was impossible to shake; it always was. It would last until after the battle when she would either be relieved, sad, or dead along with everyone else on the planet. 

She heard the door open and looked up to see Vegeta walk in; his clothes, hair and skin soaked with droplets of rain. He seemed not to care, as he stood with his arms folded across his chest. The lightning struck closer, illuminating his face in the shadowy room, revealing his expression to be unreadable. He must have finished his training, and come to the closest place he had to a home on Earth to eat and sleep. 

For a few moments they merely looked at each other. Finally, her lips parted and she spoke. "As hard as it is for me to say this, take care of yourself out there tomorrow Vegeta. I...don't want to see you get hurt. You probably don't care but before you ran out on me I had thought, if just for a moment, that I loved you." She was surprised at the words that had come rushing out, but she felt surprisingly relieved to have said them. Regardless, she expected nothing more than a 

"Hmph" in return from the Saiyajin prince. 

"Hmph." he said, then raised a dark eyebrow. " For one thing, I am confident that I will defeat Cell. For another, do you really believe things are any different between us than they were before, woman?" 

Bulma scowled at him. "We haven't talked since you left to train in space. Well, not that we ever talked! But we haven't even touched. Yamcha has been more of a father to our son this past year than you have, and that's sad! Damn it, my father's cat has been more of a father to Trunks..." 

Vegeta slowly closed the distance between them before she could finish her tirade. He firmly lifted her face in his right hand, softly stroking her cheek with his left. His eyes looked as if they were filled with great turmoil. Finally he cringed and forced out the word that had lingered so long on his tongue..."Bulma." Her eyes went wide, he was calling her Bulma. He was calling her by her name, as opposed to "woman." 

"Bulma," he said again, with just a little less effort than before, "we mated." 

"Mated, screwed, whatever you want to call it. It doesn't make it any more enchanting. It doesn't make it any better." she said with only a tinge of bitterness. 

"You may want to know this;" he responded, "Saiyajins mate for life." 

Was he trying to tell her that they did have a relationship? That they were in essence, good as married? Her eyes grew again in disbelief. She could counter him again defiantly, chase him out of her home and out of her life, but she didn't say a word. Instead she just collapsed against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He lifted his arms and embraced her, just holding her for the longest time, as the sky errupted outside the window and the thunder shook the walls. 

No one's aura had swelled; no one's hair had turned gold. But a few silent and subtle transformations had commenced before the battle began. 


	2. Uncertain Breeze Part Two -- Uncertain M...

**Title:** **Uncertain Breeze: Part Two -- Uncertain Morning**  
  
**Author:** Jessica (StarSapphireZ)  
  
**Rating:** PG13, for mild language, mature themes.   
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own DBZ, yadayadayada. Sue me? Sure, you'll get a half-empty cartoon of malt balls. Also, I've seen most of Dragonball Z, but not all, so please forgive any inconsistency.   
  
**Archive?:** Maybe. _Please contact me and ask first!_ I'm generally a nice person...  
  
**Summary:** Since so many of you asked, this is a continuation of "Uncertain Breeze". More drama and reflection from inside the mind of Ms. Bulma Briefs during the Cell Game.   
  
**Note:** Once again, I would like to give a big "THANK YOU!" to all my reviewers...of every story thusfar. I know I haven't been around for awhile, some crazy stuff has been happening in my life and I've barely been able to keep up (check my website for details.) I will try to sit down, read and review all YOUR stories when I get the chance, though. And I'm trying to write more DBZ fiction. So stay tuned. There most definitely WILL be a third and final part to this story.   
  
**Site Plug:** Electronic Wings Remix (The Spirit of DBZ; with a funky dance beat!) -- http://spirit__vs__spirit.tripod.com   
Attention fellow authors, I welcome fanfic submissions! (And fanart too!)   
  


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The morning of the Cell Game, Vegeta had rose with the sun. As the golden rays of early morning broke through the lingering gray clouds, Bulma's eyes flickered open to find that he was already gone. Just like him. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye! But that was obviously the way he had wanted it. The room was filled with the scent of rain, and his scent. His scent was still there, on the sheets, on her. That previous night, he had once again come to her, touched her and pressed his body into hers, showing her affection in the only way he knew how. 

She inhaled deeply, trying to hold on to the last remnants of that night, and trying not to think about the very real possibility that there would never be one like that again for her and her...mate. It was amusing, in a way, the title of "mates" which Vegeta had bestown upon them. But for him it bore the utmost sense of commitment. She pulled the sheets to her, forming a thick bundle in her arms. "Like I said, Vegeta...take care of yourself." she whispered. 

Just then, baby Trunks let out a squeal. Bulma pulled herself out of bed, threw on a simple shirt and pair of pants, and went to fulfill her duty to the Earth; that of a mother. She was becoming more convinced with each passing day that it wasn't any less easy than fighting hostile, all-powerful aliens and androids. 

After changing and dressing her infant son, Bulma perched him on her hip and walked out to her kitchen for a cup of coffee. Yamcha and Mirai Trunks were already seated at the table, eating their breakfasts. "Ah!" Bulma gasped, "You should have woken me up! I could have made you something!" 

"I hate to tell you this, but your son from the future here cooks better than you." said Yamcha, feigning some semblance of a smile. Mirai Trunks blushed and shifted awkwardly, then quickly offered a plate to his mother. They ate in silence, but Bulma felt that it was probably for the best. For if anyone would have spoken of the impending battle, she probably would have broken down crying and begged them not to go. 

"Well," said Yamcha, as Bulma scooped the last scraps of her meal on to her plate, "You should probably get over to Kame House now. We have to leave very soon." Bulma nodded, rising and taking everyone's dishes to the sink. 

***

They stood outside. Bulma hugged her once-lover and wished him the best, then moved on to her son from the future. She embraced him tightly and tears welled up in her eyes. 

"Mother...?" he said questioningly, gently wrapping his arms around her. 

"Trunks..." she whispered, choking back a sob. "You really, really have to take care out there today. You need to come back alive. You need to go back and rebuild your future. I'm so proud of you...and I know the future me would be too." She kissed him on the cheek, then backed away. 

"Goodbye, both of you." she said, launching the capsule for her air car. She climbed in with baby Trunks. "And good luck." she said, with a final wave before taking to the air. Mirai Trunks and Yamcha followed suite. And they sped off in their respective directions; the two warriors towards the battle, and Bulma towards Kame House. There she would watch the television broadcast of the Cell Game for as long as the station's equipment would hold out. Just like she had so many years ago, when Vegeta had first come to Earth. He had been the enemy then, and Yamcha had died because of him. Strange how things can change, she thought to herself. 

The last remaining traces of dark clouds from the previous night's storm were rapidly vanishing as she sped through the sky, which swelled with a shade of bright optimistic blue. The cool morning air grew warmer, it was indeed a beautiful spring day. It was if the Earth had no idea what kind of danger it was in. 

***

Static danced across the television set as it had for hours, the room filled with the continuos and obnoxious buzz that accompanied it. For a mere fraction of a second, an image of sky flickered across the screen. Bulma sat up on the edge of her seat for a moment, then sighed defeatedly, slumping far back into the couch. She pulled her infant son closer to her and he looked up at her, with a look in his big blue eyes that couldn't be anything but distress. He had enough of a warrior's blood to know that something was wrong. But when the shock waves from the battle would cause the Earth to shake for a moment, he had stayed eerily quiet. 

"Even in our utter helplessness, our hearts are out there fighting that battle with them." said Kamesennin, obviously in a rare moment of philosophy as he put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Is Son Kun really gone, though?" she asked tentatively. 

"Yes. Well, you never know for certain until it's through. But we need to be prepared for the worst..." he spoke the last sentence in the most fragile whisper, "I haven't felt his ki for a long time now." 

Bulma hung her head. She couldn't hold up in a fight against even the weakest of warriors, much less detect ki. But from somewhere deep inside her she knew it to be true that Goku was gone. Maybe it was because she had known him since he was a child. Maybe it was women's intuition. It didn't matter very much. Her whole life had been a curse and a blessing, rolled into one big blur of events. She had stumbled into a secret before it truly existed, the people around her had grown in leaps and bounds to become the saviors of the world. Time and time again. With them as her dearest friends - and a Saiyajin as her mate and father of her son - she had all the protection she could ever ask for. But the curse was this; the waiting, the uncertainty. And finally, the grief. 

Just then, another tremor hit hard. Bulma pulled her legs up on to the couch and braced herself against it, shielding little Trunks for all she was worth. Kamesennin went flying, landing in an akward tangle of limbs on the wooden floor. Bulma raised an eyebrow as the shaking began to cease, frankly surprised he hadn't "landed" smack in the middle of her cleavage. He clearly wasn't himself either. The quaking began again and Kamesennin latched on to the leg of his coffee table, hanging on for dear life. 

"What's going on out there?" Bulma shouted, her voice barely audible above the combined sounds of the TV and the tremors rattling the Earth. 

"You're asking me?!" he shouted in response. His sunglasses dropped from his face to the floor as he continued to cling. After being toppled from the couch herself, Bulma squeezed her body - along with baby Trunks's - under the table and waited. And waited, as furniture clattered to the floor, pieces of plaster worked their way loose from the ceiling and the ocean beat hard against the walls, forcing water through the windows. Until Bulma was certain that it was the end, of everything. 

Then it stopped. 

Kamesennin relinquished his grip on the coffee table, replaced his sunglasses, and climbed to his feet. He cleared his throat. "It's over." he said. 

"It's over?" asked Bulma in disbelief as she crawled out. "That means...that means someone out there has defeated Cell, because we're not dead!" Her face lit up, brighter than it had been in days. Brighter than it had been in a very, very long time. "Yay!" she shouted and she began to dance, lifting a bewildered little Trunks into the air. 

"Okay," she said, "we're going back to Capsule Corporation. I want to be there to greet everyone when they come." 


End file.
